OUT HERODING HEROD
While eating dinner the younger man assumed the lead in the matter of
conversation, and it became general in its character.
"Mr. Worth," remarked Thorne, "you say that economy took you to the Mount
Vernon. Now, I happen to have two beds in my room. What do you say to
sharing one of them with me? It will cost you no more than you are
paying, and I judge that the service here is much better than in your
present hotel."
This proposition rather pleased Job, and the arrangement was accordingly
perfected, and the evening found the two men genially smoking their
cigars quite like two old friends.
This proposition of Thorne was not as generous as Worth might have
supposed. There lurked in the former's mind an indistinct suspicion. Nay,
it was more than a suspicion, and he reasoned that if this man was what
he feared he was, he could parry the danger better by having him under
his eye, for even now he was concocting a scheme of escape. On the other
hand, Worth had no doubt in his mind that this was the man he was after;
but how to proceed was the question that was troubling him. The words of
the Consul still gave him no little concern. He had plainly intimated
that extradition would not be possible as the case stood, and he knew
that he could not secure them without the Consul's recommendation.
That Sunday night was an important point of time in the lives of both
these young men. Some light wine was partaken of in addition to cigars,
and each was thinking his own thoughts and forming his own plans even
while the conversation was on other subjects. The bank robbery in London
was spoken of, and in the course of the conversation the wreck of the
yacht and the drowning of the three young men also were mentioned yet
neither subject seemed of much interest, although Thorne remarked that he
was well acquainted with them all.
Worth allowed the younger man to lead, and really direct the
conversation, being all the while convinced that Thorne was trying to
draw him out, trying to find out how much or how little he knew.
It was near midnight when Job undressed and laid down on his bed, with
his mind made up that in the morning at breakfast he would arrest
Thorne. The latter continued to sit at a table writing after the
detective had retired.
Worth soon slept, and slept soundly. This was a new experience of late;
but when he awoke, to his surprise, it was broad daylight, and yet the
gas was still burning brightly. His head ached, and he raised up and
looked in the direction of Thorne's bed. It was unoccupied. The instant
thought that something was wrong, that something unusual had transpired
aroused him, and he sprang out of bed. Just then a tap on the door
startled him. "Hello!" he said, "come in."
A voice replied: "Can't come in--door is locked. Do you want breakfast?"
Job sprang to his vest, which hung on a chair, to find, by his watch,
what time it was; but his watch was not there. As quickly as possible he
dressed himself, and in doing so, he put his hand into a secret pocket
where he carried his valuable papers, and pocketbook. It was empty. Every
paper, even the warrant which the London authorities had issued,
authorizing Worth to arrest James Thurston, and his pocket book,
containing over a hundred pounds, had disappeared and he was locked in
his room. In the midst of his humiliating astonishment, his eyes rested
on a paper neatly folded and addressed to Job Worth, Esq., Bow Street
Detective, London, England. Opening it, he read as follows:
"You will doubtless be surprised on perusing this affectionate note. I
know you, of course. I also know why you are here. When I met you today I
at once knew it was all up with me unless I could outgeneral you--and I
think I have. Part of the money you seek you will find in the bureau
drawer. You are welcome to it. I have carried it around a year, and have
not been able to buy so much as a cigar with it. Possibly you may be able
to convince the bank that you are not one of the men who stole it. But,
in return for making you so liberal a bequest, I have possessed myself of
your watch and pocketbook. I trust that this will not distress you. My
financial condition made it a necessity. I kindly fixed your wine last
night in order to give you a good night's rest. When you arrest me be
sure you have the needed papers. Good-by.
"JAMES THURSTON, alias THORNE."
Worth at once drew out the drawer of the bureau and found at its further
end a package securely wrapped in brown paper; but fearing there still
might be deception, opened it, and sure enough, he counted fifty
one-thousand-pound Bank of England notes. Securely tying them together,
he placed them in the secret pocket which had been so recently rifled,
and started to go downstairs, but found that the porter was right, he was
locked in his room. After thumping at the door, without success, he
remembered seeing a bell, which he rang lustily. After a few minutes a
youth came to the door and turned the key. Worth, thus released, hastened
down to discover that it was eleven o'clock in the forenoon. Within two
hours a warrant for the arrest of James Thurston, alias James Thorne, was
issued with a description of the watch and the amount of money stolen. A
notice of reward was also issued and appeared at once in the newspapers.
A general alarm was sent out by the Police Department, the railroad
stations and steamboat landings were vigilantly watched, but without any
results. Thorne had gotten away while Worth was asleep.
Fortunately, before leaving home Worth had sewed in the lining of his
coat a sum of money as a reserve fund. This had not been discovered, but
for which fact he would have found himself penniless in a strange land,
with only his silver star as the insignia of his identity.